That Which Has Been Lost
by Burning.Mirrors
Summary: Life has always about planning, about profit, about keeping what you kill. However, there exists in everyone a hole that begs to be filled; and no matter what you conquer or how much you gain or who you kill, the hole is always deeper than when you started. Then you fall in and realize there will be no escaping. At that point, the best you can hope for is some good company. Vaas/OC
1. Chapter 1

**That Which Has Been Lost**

**Chapter One**

**A/N: Hello everyone, and thank you in advance for starting this fic with me. It's my first attempt at writing for Far Cry and for writing Vaas- I'm going to take it as a challenge. Just a few contextual notes for everyone; I intend for this fic to begin about three years pre-Far Cry 3 with some AU/non-Canon events closer to that epoch. Seeing as I'm going to try and keep Vaas and others as close to character as possible there will be adult language, possibly drug use and torture, sexual situations, and all the like, so consider this your warning.**

**And finally, there is no copyright infringement intended upon Ubisoft for utilizing the world, locations, or characters they've created- I only own this story and the original characters therein. With all the formalities out of the way, our tale can begin!**

* * *

She played the victim well if nothing else; when they found her, she was soaked to the bone, evidently having just escaped the rip and tug of the currents and crawled up the beach toward a face-down form whose blonde hair shone against the mid-afternoon sun. She was sobbing and cursing, or she might have been at least, seeing as the language that flowed past her lips was completely foreign to the pirates despite their varying backgrounds. But more than anything else, it was evident she had money, or her parents did at least.

The cruising yacht had been spotted by his pirates from quite distance off to the east of the North Island, and while the pirate lord had just given the order to go and "sink the fucker", it seemed that the idiots on board managed well enough without them. They'd gotten too close to the reefs near the east coast a short drive from where Vaas was currently operating within the Tequila Sunrise outpost. He laughed when he learned that the operators of the ship, as many others had done before them, overheated and blew the engine trying to escape nature's bony clutches. In no time, they'd set their own craft on fire and it was only a matter of time before the fuel tank erupted from the pressure of the flames, the rest of the ship being consumed in fire until it sunk below the water's deceptively calm surface. The currents around the Rook Islands were beyond predictable, so after sparing himself and his men a few hours for the tide to wash the wreckage ashore, Vaas set out with a small band of men to scour the beach directly east of them for anything of value, the unique shape of the island creating a useful pull for collecting loose-floating debris.

For being debris, she looked very valuable- young, pretty, and entirely much out of place. She seemed to have heard their jeep approach as her eyes were alternating sweeping the foliage at the far side of the beach and focusing on trying to rouse the young man who lied on blood-soaked sand before her. She called out to them when they first came into view, but her shouts died down as they grew nearer- as she began to take note of the resounding color scheme and threatening array of weaponry. She tried to get up, tried to run, but the heavy sand caught and held onto her bare feet, weighing her down until she collapsed after a few meters. She likely hadn't been out of the ocean very long, meaning she'd been treading water and fighting the tide for more than two hours now.

Vaas gave a curt wave of his hand, directing the majority of the group to search the charred wreckage and the additional three bodies that were scattered a few meters apart on the long stretch of beach while himself and one other went to gather their newest bargaining chip. She'd again tried and failed to put more space between her and the approaching pirates, her voice beginning to emit words that were distinguishable.

"_Baad manni… Afaak_- p-please don't hurt me. I'm begging you." Her voice was low and cracked, her throat no doubt raw from the salt water she'd been swallowing and shouting she'd been doing. It was a wonder she could speak at all at this point- more than that it was a wonder she had evaded the sharks that were so very prominent in the east waters. Yet here she was, inching backwards with her heels digging into the sand as she tried to move away. However, the two red-clad males boxed her in easily with a few quick strides, bringing her to a halt. Calmly Vaas crouched before her as she reflexively drew her knees a bit closer as if to conserve her non-existent personal space, her body trembling from the wetness of her clothing in spite of the warmth of the island.

"So you do speak English, hermana- fucking fantastic." He looked down at the doe-eyed girl, the pale green of her irises nearly eclipsed by her dilated pupils and her olive skin ashen and stained by the sand that clumped to the gash at her left temple. Her chest heaved in short, shallow breaths, and Vaas couldn't help feeling sickly mirthful as he watched her eyes flit between his own face and the blonde that lay some distance behind him.

"Is that your boyfriend over there? You know, I don't think he looks so good…"

"You have to help him, he-he could die! He needs help soo-" her increasingly hysterical begging faded into a sharp scream as a gunshot cut through the air, body curling reflexively in upon itself as one of the sand-sifters pulled his sidearm and shot through the blonde's skull. The sound seemed to shatter whatever frail handle she still had on her psyche judging by the way her body dissolved into tremors.

"Would you look at that, Kabil. Seems like she's saving you the trouble." Vaas laughed casually as the girl succumbed to shock, eyes rolling back in her skull as her muscles relaxed her into a boneless pile in the sand. He straightened up quickly, dusting off his tattered olive drab cargos as he met Kabil's gaze while the larger man slung the rifle he was preparing to use to whack the woman on the skull onto his back instead. He then stooped as he cut a length of rope from the short coil on his hip before moving to bind her hands in front of her while the pirates' leader thoughtfully nudged at the sand with the toe of his boot.

"Alright cocksuckers, take what you can find and get your asses back to the truck. What are you waiting for, a fucking invitation?" Vaas flung his arms out as he spun suddenly, watching the men scurry to gather what they collected in their pockets and rucksacks as Kabil strode past him with the woman slung over one of his broad shoulders, her upper body face down against the male's back. The native Mexican was a tall, hulking mass of a man, and one of Vaas' most loyal pirates. Quiet, efficient, respectful, did what he was fucking told the very first time. If only the rest of them were like that.

"Kabil, put her in the front. I don't want any of those _pendejos_ bruising her up or any shit like that." Vaas followed after his gang, eyes sweeping the lifeless bodies of the other three people who had been on the yacht with their poor little rich girl before an exasperated sigh passed his slightly chapped lips. Suddenly, his voice rose above the quiet rush of the ocean.

"After we get back one of you better round up some recruits down here to clean up this goddamn mess! We don't live in a fucking pigsty, okay? I am trying to keep this island looking presentable."

* * *

Tara's head throbbed, vision fading in and out before pitching wildly and distorting as she finally opened her eyes toward the world. She was able to quickly decipher that she was looking up at the night sky. She felt her stomach lurch and forced her eyes closed again, just trying to reestablish her equilibrium and control her breathing. When she finally opened her eyes once again, she came to realize something that had somehow slipped her notice before- there were worn bamboo stalks tied in a neat grid that were separating her from the world beyond.

Caged.

She made an attempt bring her arms to push herself upright only to become painfully aware that her hands were trapped in front of her body by a heavy rope and she had lost most of the feeling from her wrists to her fingertips.

Tara had finally rolled onto her side and managed to push herself upright when the sound of a sharp barking laugh entered her conscious and caused her to concentrate just a little more clearly on her surroundings.

"So, Sleeping Beauty is up an about. And here you didn't even need true love's kiss, huh? I guess they make princesses a little differently these days." Her eyes focused on the direction of the thickly accented voice, noting a glowing ember from the end of a cigar twitch ever so slightly as its smoker straightened up from the stack of shipping crates he'd been sitting on and swaggered toward her with his hands deep in his pockets.

"But I mean, shit's pretty crazy out in the real world, you know hermana? The only way people actually get shit done is when they try something different, go out and have to fun, no? And you know what? Sometimes you still get fucked. I mean, look at you- here you are, all alone with your only means of salvation lying in your dearest father's hands." He'd made his way closer as he slowly spoke, occasionally stalling his procession to pace side to side or gesticulate with his cigar or just his hands alone until he finally crouched down in front of her with less than a meter and a cage of bamboo stalks separating them.

"Tell me, _amante_, do you think your family will pay to have you back? How much are you worth to them?" he inquired before he exhaled slowly, the small cloud of smoke that settled over her causing her eyes to water as she coughed sharply in an attempt to dispel the plume.

"My baba will pay for me, I know he will." Tara's response was meek yet surprisingly confident, her sureness oddly amplified by the soreness of her throat and the wear in her voice. Vaas' lips curled in a grin as he gave her a once-over, knocking the small collation of ash at the end his cigar onto the ground before he spoke again.

"Will he now? What's your name then, hermana? Where are you from?" He inquired, gold-hazel eyes scouring her features as she debated how, and if, to answer.

"Oh, and you better not lie to me- I need to know who to send your movie to. You know, make sure it gets to the right people…"

"My name is Tahira... Labrat. I'm from Chechaouene." Her reply was quiet, namely due to her still aching throat, but she was meeting his dark-rimmed eyes in a mildly fixated manner. That was how she was able to catch the slight narrowing of his gaze as if he were trying to place something. She took a guess at what that something might be and swallowed quickly before amending her previous response.

"Chechaouene, Morocco."

He nodded smoothly as he considered this bit of information, and she could practically see the gears turning over and over in his mind. For him that explained, primarily, the strange French-Arabic duality of her accent. It was a lovely sound, with the strain causing her voice to be unusually husky and her tongue rolling words in a strangely enticing manner. He knew relatively little about the country as he'd never visited or had much reason to research it in depth, but he knew enough that it was a country with a large muddle of languages, religions, and cultures from both Africa and Europe.

"Casablanca!" The man exclaimed suddenly, the woman looking both perplexed and slightly taken aback at the glee that filled his features.

"You know, Rick Blaine and his star-crossed lover Ilsa Lund caught in the shifting tides of World War II? Gun smuggling, nightclubs, and gambling. Come on hermana, it's a classic!"

Her concurrently taken aback and unenthused reaction seemed to displease him, and while her eyes didn't stray from him nor her features falter as he leaned forward, his own expression altered drastically from slight annoyance to anger in a fraction of a second.

"What the fuck are you doing! I do not like the way you're looking at me right now, okay? Look, I don't know who the fuck you think you are to judge me you filthy puta. You know what, fuck you. You better hope your bastardo papa wants you back, because if he doesn't, I have half a mind to put a bullet through your pretty little head right here, you know?" The pirate raged animatedly with his hands, at one point pitching his half-burned cigar onto the ground and grinding it down with his booted foot as he stood only to return to where he'd initially began their conversation.

It was at that point that he pantomimed pulling the trigger on a gun aimed at his own right temple; it pleased him that she finally looked just a little more frightened, a little more obedient.

"But you know what hermana, it looks like you already got a nice head wound." Suddenly, his voice was much softer, both his tone and visage reflecting a normalcy as if he hadn't just experienced a minor manic episode. The pirate reached for her, his long arm easily spanning the distance between them and gripping her chin forcefully before she could move away. He instead used his grip to pull her closer, her knees scraping across the gritty mixture of sand and dirt upon which she knelt until she was forced to grip the bars of her cage for stability. Tara was doing a fair job of averting her gaze until he turned her chin to better observe the evidence of the blow she'd taken to her skull, his free hand moving to touch the brittle clot and area surrounding the wound. Her reaction of flinching and hissing minutely was instantaneous, her green-gold irises locking with his with such indignation it seemed that he couldn't help but smirk.

At the same time, Tara wouldn't help but actually look at him; something in his piercing eyes toed the line of insanity, and the prominent scar that arched over the left side of his skull and divided his eyebrow was born proudly, the hair around it shorn almost to his scalp. There were other, smaller scars on his head, face, and arms, both a testament to his life on the island and a warning to those who dared cross him. His facial hair was surprisingly well kept, and his teeth unusually white, but his clothes were spotted with dirt and blood, as were the bandages around his left hand and several of the fingers on his right. He was not someone to be taken lightly, though she doubted any of the men here were.

The choice to keep the hair on the top of his head long enough to spike was something that stood out to her, and suddenly he reminded her of something completely different. He was like a Great White- powerful, dangerous, and violent. If provoked. But that look in his eyes- something there suggested that that he definitely possessed the ability to be violent without any reason to do so. Maybe he just liked the fear it brought- and just maybe here, on this island, fear was the only way to guarantee your position.

"It doesn't look too bad, huh? Just a scratch- and your body has already taken care of it. I can't have you getting an infection while you're here, you know? It'd be real sorry if you died here before your papa got a chance to give me his money." He drawled, watching her watch him. For a second she'd thought he was talking about his own scar until he began to scratch some of the blood from her cheekbone with his thumb.

"Vaas!"

The man's eyes sparking dangerously as a voice called out from behind him, the woman's brow puckering slightly when she realized that she had only just learned the man's name even though he was clearly the one running this whole operation.

"What the fuck do you want?" The man shouted as he stood and spun in the same instant, releasing her chin with unusual gentleness although she flinched minutely at the sudden volume of his voice. The pirate who waited for him seemed more than accustomed to his superior's outbursts, body stiffening though his voice remained mostly steady.

"Hoyt called in- he said to get rid of the rejects."

This news seemed to brighten Vaas' disposition considerably as he brought his hands together quickly, emitting a solid clap that cut through the small area Tara's cage occupied amidst a few ramshackle huts and a long stretch of high barbed wire fence.

"Excellent. Now hermana, keep an ear open. You might be able to hear some very… interesting sounds. Those are the sounds of people whose families don't want them back very much." Vaas caught her eye as he made his way toward the messenger who'd came to find him, instructing him to remain by the cage with a nod.

"Kabil should be here soon. Keep an eye on her until then, okay? If she's not there when I get back…" the scarred man warned in muted tones, dragging his thumb across his own throat and emitting a squelching sound through the back of his teeth before disappearing into the darkness that lay outside her field of vision past the edges of the shanties.

The man who'd come by eyed her in the way a child eyes a new toy, meandering toward the bars of the cage with feigned causality. It was beyond evident what kind of situation and area she was in- here, women were objects made to be used and thrown away at a man's leisure. But worse yet, she was a captive woman. Tara swallowed thickly, beginning to move away from the bars only to be snatched back as the man's large hand shot forward and grabbed a fistful of her dark brunette hair for use as a means of anchoring her in place.

"They said you was a pretty thing, but I had to come take a look. I thought maybe they were just hungry for a piece of ass, but no- the rumors were true for once." He was turning her face this way and that as he spoke to her with a thick accent that was typically found in the islands off the southeast coast of Florida. She tried to avoid his eyes, closing her own occasionally when she experienced an especially painful tug from him trying to get a rise out of her.

"Such soft hair… I bet your skin is just as-" His depraved musing were cut short by the scream being retched from his own throat. The hand not buried in her hair had moved between the bars to caress her cheek, fingers spread wide enough for Tara to lean forward and sink her teeth into the webbing between his thumb and index finger as if on instinct. She drew blood almost instantly, the metallic tang seeping over her tongue and dribbling down her chin. He tried to pull his hand back but it only made her bite down harder, the man issuing another pained shout as the hand on her hair pulled her head back sharply, retching his hand from her jaws.

"You fucking bitch!" the man screeched in indignation, already making for the door to the cage and undoing the heavy rope that'd been used to tie it closed. It made sense now when she noted that there were no rocks in the cage- nothing to saw through the rope with, and with no way of being able to reach around between the narrow spacing of the bars it was impossible to untie it from the inside. But, in his rage, the pirate undid the undoubtedly steadfast knot with livid tugs at the rope before throwing open the door and storming into the small space.

Tara had inched away from the bars by then, propelling herself backwards with her heels, looking furtively for something, _anything_, to throw at the offender before realizing that there was truly nothing here. By then, he was making a grab for her throat. She rolled further onto her back, far enough to pull one knee up to her chest just before she braced one foot against the ground and drove her coiled heel up into the man's chin as a sound of exertion left her lips, accompanied by a sickening crack as her foot connected and he stumbled backwards.

The next thing to come from the man's mouth was an angry howl, blood and spittle flecking out from the anguish caused by his very likely dislocated jaw and busted lip. He had given her space for a brief moment before launching himself down on top of her, his greater bulk pinning her down as one hand found her throat and began to clench. She tried to struggle, to escape, but with her windpipe being forced closed, her hands tied, and her chest beginning to burn, she closed her eyes tightly as she almost began to regret biting him. Almost.

The pressure was released suddenly and her eyes flew open as she pulled in a deep, wheezing breath that made her cough convulsively from the abuse of her windpipe. Her focus quickly shifted to the man who had been on top of her, his weight being steadily removed by a Hulk-like weathered man who looked severely displeased. His heavy brow was drawn in as he held the other pirate by the back of the neck, his fingers very nearly surrounding the full girth of his throat.

"Vaas said the girl was off limits. She is not to be harmed unless he gives the word." Kabil said in a thick, Spanish-accented voice with an underlying coarseness that hinted at heavy smoking. Granted, the smoldering cigarette hanging off his lower lip and the way he spoke with ease around the fiberglass filter practically proved that assumption.

Whatever the man was attempting to say in rebuttal quickly resolved into a pained groan, the muscles surrounding is jaw unable to function properly and only serving to agitate his injury. Remaining unmoved, the large man turned his eyes to Tara, and she saw that he was eyeing the blood that covered her lips and had dribbled down her chin onto the sheer lace blouse she wore over her floral bikini top.

"It's not mine- it's his." She resolved hoarsely, turning her head to spit a small amount onto the ground beside her though it did little to remove the metallic taste from her mouth. She caught the twitch of his lips as she looked back to him, the response surprising her minutely. Was he… amused by this?

"Go get yourself cleaned up." Kabil instructed as he turned and shoved his cohort out the door of the cage before looking back to her.

"There is food and water," an abstract gesture of his hand indicated bowl and a clear plastic two-liter bottle that'd been set just inside the cage door, presumably right before he removed the other man from her body.

"Also, chica, if you want to stay alive here, don't touch anyone unless they touch you first. Vaas' word is law around here, and while most of the men fear him, not all of them respect him. He wants them to mind their hands, but do not trust any of them and do not give them reason to act." She watched him as his dark umber eyes impassively regarded her sorry state, bound, caged, and bleeding, but offering no other consolation or aid.

He turned then and exited the tiny enclosure, securing the gate with a chain and lock this time, before removing himself and perching where Vaas had been when she first woke up. Her eyes returned to the rations she'd been provided and she forced herself onto her knees so she could shuffle over. White rice and water- that was all. But, what else could she expect? Captives weren't given five-star meals. She went for the water first, doing her best not to spill a drop despite the eagerness with which she tried to parch her sore throat and quell the ache that seemed to have infected her brain in spite of the diluted taste of blood that was sliding unpleasantly over her tongue. The bottle was dirty, the label long gone from being reused so many times, but the water inside was pure and crisp- that at least meant that there were sources of fresh water somewhere on the island, either by streams or hand-dug wells.

She forced herself not to consume the entire jug at once and soon set it down to eat the rice she'd been given. There wasn't very much, and there were no utensils, so she settled with bringing the bowl to her lips and tipping her head back until a sufficient amount had entered her mouth before lowering the bowl and chewing. Tara could make out a soft scraping sound over to her left near the crates where Kabil sat, and at one point as she chewed a mouthful of rice she looked over to find the dark skinned man running a blade over a small block of wood, pausing briefly to light another cigarette from the embers on the end of the one currently between his lips.

"You're Kabil, right?" Tara asked hesitantly, deciding to press her luck a bit with the first one of the bunch who seemed relatively stable and non-aggressive despite his intimidating stature. Her only grunted in response to her, but after she finally finished her rice and set the bowl back where she'd found it did she try to engage him again.

"You were there on the beach- the others, the ones who were on the boat with me, are they okay? I-I know they killed Eli, but, what about-"

"They were all dead when we found them. The woman was missing half her body, looks like a shark got to her, and the other one looked like an owl with his head all turned right about. We didn't even bother to check on those ones." Kabil replied tonelessly, Tara only managing a nod. So, she was alone, then.

Or, not quite alone.

An anguished scream pierced the relatively static background clamor of the compound, accompanied by a chorus of raucous laughter. Then there was another scream, and more laughter. For the next half hour there were screams and pleads of various pitches and tonalities, but in the end they were all silenced by a chain-link series of gunshots. There were seven in all. Seven rejects.

Tara had withdrawn herself to the side of the cage flanked by the fence, putting the most distance between herself and her captors, the remainder of her bottle of water kept close to her body. It had been dark when she awoke, and with no way of telling how much time had passed she was minutely surprised to find that the sky was beginning to lighten as the sun rose over her right shoulder. Now all she had to do was survive one more day.

* * *

**A/N: One down! I hope everyone's as excited to get to know Tahira as I am to introduce her! She's a pretty face, but there's a lot going on underneath that's going to be surfacing in the upcoming chapters. Hang on!**

**Translation Notes:  
********D = Darija || S = Spanish**

**"Baad manni!" - "Get away from me!" |D| "Afaak" - "Please" |D| "Pendejo(s)" - "Dumbass(es)" |S| -"Amante" - "Sweetheart" |S|**


	2. Chapter 2

**That Which Has Been Lost**

**Chapter Two**

**A/N: Well, chapter two has finally made an appearance and things are going along! The island hasn't been very kind to Tahira thus far, but she's only just arrived; so, we'll just have to wait and see what she makes of it.**

* * *

From what Tara could tell it was nearly midday before she saw Vaas again, but she couldn't say the same about hearing him- could that man's voice carry or could it. The common theme, she noted, was that he was either berating or teasing someone, or throwing about orders- though more frequently than not it was a combination of the two. Thusly, it was no surprise when she heard him coming and was able to shift to her knees before as he came into view with another person stumbling behind him.

It was the same man from last night, the one whose jaw she busted, and he was being pulled along by a length of rope tied snug around his neck. It'd been there for a while at least, considering how raw and swollen the markings were where the rough fibers dug into his skin.

"This fucker here touch you? DID HE?" While is question had started out sounding almost concerned, it quickly turned into an aggressive demand. She watched his line of vision lock onto the remains of the dried blood on her jaw, eyes going livid.

"… It's not mine." She said slowly, catching his gaze and watching his expression become surprisingly amused as he turned to the man whose jaw had swollen to ridiculous proportions and left no doubt as to the degree of his injury.

"You're a sick fuck, you know that? I told all you stupid cocksuckers not to touch her and what do you do? And you know what- she still kicked your fucking ass! You're a bloodthirsty little vixen, aren't you?" The last part was directed at her, his eyes focused intently on her for a brief moment before moving to Kabil, at which point he issued a soft whistle as he motioned toward the cage.

As Kabil reached and unlocked the door, Tara pulled herself to her feet with the help of one of the bars, her one-time savior grasping her bicep in a manner that she knew far better than to attempt to shrug off. He guided her through the doorway and over to where Vaas stood with the other pirate, having just finished tying the rope around the man's throat to a nearby electricity pole. He gave the lead a solid tug to check the integrity of the knot before moving toward his female captive.

Her heart stuttered in her chest as he pulled a knife from his belt, flinching but not pulling away as he grasped her hands roughly just long enough for him to cut through one of the coils of rope before he released his grip and sheathed the blade without so much as a word. Tara took quick advantage of her freedom and twisted the rope until it fell away, leaving behind angry red welts and a painful numbness as blood began to circulate through her hands again. She couldn't resist touching the injury even though doing so made her wince, but her attention was soon diverted when Vaas again reached for his belt and this time pulled a pistol from his sidearm holster.

Now her heart was racing, each beat thumping against her eardrums. Her anxiety died down slight as she watched him level the gun with the bound pirate's head, causing the man to struggle and try to loosen the rope about his neck or pull it over his head without success. He voiced distorted pleas, his eyes begging as he sank to his knees with Vaas' sights never moving from their target. At least not until he shifted the pistol in front of Tara's chest, her wide eyes going between him and the gun as a smirked formed on his lips.

"Take it, put a bullet right here. Or don't. I'm going to let you decide his fate this time, okay?" He motioned with the barrel of the gun to the center of his own chest before holding the weapon back out to her, and she quickly realized that Kabil was no longer holding onto her bicep. However, she could feel that he was still hovering less than an arm's length away in the blind spot over her shoulder, keeping her rooted to the spot with his presence alone.

Vaas seemed frustrated by her hesitation and grabbed her left hand with his, bringing it up to one side of the grip and ensuring she was holding it before removing his right hand and repeating the action. The gun weighed heavily in her grasp, and she swallowed thickly. The additional weight of his left arm settled over her thin shoulders as he pulled her to his side, her arms shaking as she looked past the sights on the barrel at the man who was watching them with fear and confusion, trying to make sense of his fate.

"See, scum like this are the last kind of people I need on my crew, okay? They don't listen to me and then they go and make a mess and I have to clean it up. But you know what, more than anything else?"

Tara turned her eyes up to him, though she couldn't help but feel that seeing him from this angle was far too intimate for her to be comfortable with. He was waiting for her answer, and she learned quickly that his patience was something she didn't want to toy with.

"What is that?"

"I really want to see you put a hole right through him." He said in a low, encouraging tone, angling his head just so that she could feel his breath run over her ear and down the back of her neck. She turned away, her vision focusing on the kneeling man not even 10 meters from her. He'd ceased begging and was just looking at her. His eyes weren't fearful- instead, they were almost amused. It was all a joke, just Vaas messing with another captive's head. She wouldn't pull the trigger; whenever Vaas had tried getting captives kill their companions it was always him that had to pull the trigger.

She had a choice to make- take his life or spare it. Her muscles began to slacken, the gun reaching the waistband of her jean shorts when she swore she saw that _ungrateful fucker _smile.

"_Mchi thawa_."

The crack of a gunshot stung her ears briefly as she stared at the man's limp body, starting slightly at the whoop that came from Vaas' throat as he removed his arm from her shoulders and jogged to the still-warm corpse.

"Would you look at that? Right through the fucking eye- there's a hole in the top of his head the size of my fucking fist!" The mohawked man turned a broad smile upon her, flashing his teeth as he straightened from his observatory crouch and stalked towards her.

"You really are bloodthirsty, aren't you?" he inquired, his voice almost purring as he reclaimed his sidearm from her lax fingers and returned it to his holster even as tears had begun to trail down her cheeks, body trembling as she wrapped her head around what she'd just done. She'd killed a man who was incapable of defending himself, who was on his knees, just like that.

"Come one, we're going for a walk… and Kabil, send someone over to get this fucker's body out of my compound." He spoke over her head, unconcerned about the presence of her tears as one hand crept up over her shoulder to grasp the back of her neck. His fingers were rough and while his grip wasn't painful, it was very much _there _and was an ample warning.

He guided her to walk slightly in front of him, directing her out between the shacks into a more open part of the compound. The area he led her into was surprisingly concentric, bordered by a few larger hodgepodge buildings and tarps stretched between roofs or fashioned into makeshift tents. Near what appeared to be the main entrance, surrounded knee-high wall of cinderblocks, was a large firepit, and just behind it a small platform that was freshly bloodstained.

There were eyes on her as she walked, accompanied by the occasional catcall or gesture, and while Vaas had seemed very adamant about no one touching her, he didn't seem to care what else they did or said. Tara looked around discreetly, avoiding the eyes of the pirates as best she could while wiping her eyes and quickly finding what she'd expected. More cages, though these were larger, out in the open, and more heavily guarded. But, there were also more people in them.

Those people were of all races and nationalities, some old, some young, men and women. They'd all come too close to the island, and they were caught and held. Vaas seemed intent on ransoming her, and she could only assume he was doing the same with all the others. She could only imagine how much money was flowing through with the number of people that must be caught and ransomed off every year. But, then there were the ones who didn't get paid for. Those were probably the rejects.

He guided her toward a smaller building near the far end of the compound, outside it a rusty hand-pump well and a pail which was half full with clear water. Vaas gave her a slight shove toward the pail, eyeing her carefully.

"Clean yourself up a bit- you look like shit."

Tara bit her tongue and looked at him with a small measured of confusion before doing as she was told, kneeling in front of the bucket and dipping her hands into the questionable liquid. It was cool, and considering the heat of the day it must have been pumped rather recently. Cupping a handful she brought it to her face, using it to first scrub the dried blood from her chin and jaw before more carefully cleansing the wound at her temple. She considered asking Vaas for his blade to use as a mirror but decided against it and instead used her fingers to assess the cut.

Soon she felt his hand grip her shoulder, at which point she staggered to her feet and his hand returned to the back of her neck.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked slowly, keeping her gaze from his as she heard a laugh pass his lips and rumble in his chest.

"You and me, _bella_, we're going to make a movie."

* * *

Once again Tara found herself bound, but this time it was to a chair and the rope was secured around her lower ribcage and biceps. The room was located in an annexed sub-basement of one of the more solid-looking concrete structures and she quickly understood why. None of the sounds of the camp above reached the space, muted by several feet of earth and cement.

The first and largest of the rooms in the basement was stocked with a number of large arms and stacked pallets of some white substance that Tara could only assume was cocaine. Of course they trafficked drugs and weapons on top of ransoming unfortunate vacationers. There were a few men working in there, measuring out the powder on scales and packaging it- they only spared her and Vaas a passing glance, clearly inured to their leader coming through with captives to 'make movies'.

They had then passed through into a smaller room behind a heavy door, the lighting dim compared to the previous room but considerably more empty. Only a patchwork white sheet hung from the wall behind the chair where she currently sat and a low table with a slightly higher-end camcorder setting on top of it.

After he'd bound her, Vaas picked up the recorder and tested the weight between his hands before he spoke to her again, the green light of the camera twinkling on.

"Alright, Tahira, was it? We're going to make a little film, okay? Just, pretend I'm not even here. You're talking to your parents, your mother and father- don't you miss them?"

Tara nodded obediently, her eyes beginning to tear up as Vaas urged her on.

"Tell them how much you miss them, how much you want to go home…"

The words tumbled out brokenly as she fought against the sobs that surged from her chest, her words a strange mélange of some variant of Arabic, French, and occasionally English or Spanish, the last of which taking Vaas by slightly surprise.

An hour could have passed, but for Tara it felt much longer. Vaas kept asking her to repeat things, in one language then in another, then in one she'd already used before. How much do you miss them? Tell them you love them. Ask why they haven't paid to have you back yet. He prompted her with questions and scenarios, trying to keep her talking as long as he could. Truthfully, he seemed to like it when she cried, bringing the lenses close to her cheeks whenever the saline drops would escape her lower lid and following its path down to her chin.

The tears came less and less, and soon she was just trembling and gasping, unable of crying any longer. That was when Vaas finally turned off the camera, crouching in front of her and tipping her chin up to meet his eyes as he began to clarify her situation.

"You see _amante_, I haven't been completely honest with you, okay? Pretty girls like you- their daddies will pay anything to have them back. But, there are also people who will pay more so that their daddies never get them back. And you, you'll get bought up real quick. See, I envy you a bit- you could go anywhere in the world! Maybe Yemen, or Saudi Arabia… You'd make a nice little _puta_ for some-"

That was when she snapped her head forward, her forehead colliding hard enough with his to knock him backwards onto the ground. Vaas looked up her, something unreadable in his eyes as a grin split his lips in response to the string of multi-lingual curses that she was flinging with reckless abandon in his direction, a faint trickle of blood trailing down his forehead and over the bridge of his nose from the small split in his skin he'd just received. All the while he got back to his feet she had yet to quit struggling against her restraints or shouting empty threats at him, and she didn't stop until he forced her to by straddling the chair and setting his full weight down upon her legs. A fraction of a second later his strong hand had come up and grasped her chin with his thumb digging threateningly into the hinge of her lower jaw, the pressure against the joint being more than enough to discourage her from saying anything further as a chuckle emanated from his chest.

"That was ballsy, hermana. You know, I respect that. But I can't have you pulling that shit anymore, okay? This is a one-time offer- you act like a good little spitfire while you're here and keep your temper to yourself, and I'll to my best to make sure you go to a good home." Vaas spoke lowly to the point she could barely hear him, the male forcing her to hold his gaze as he placed a hand over his heart as if to assure her of his sincerity.

"But, I swear, if you even think of doing something like that again- well, your stay here is going to be a lot different."

He finally removed his weight from her body and his hand from her jaw, grabbing the camcorder and folding the viewing screen open, her own voice beginning to play through the device's small speakers.

"This is going to make a real nice film."

Vaas turned and left the room, closing the door firmly and leaving her there tied to the rickety wooden chair next door to a room of coke handlers. She couldn't just walk out of here even if she managed to escape the ropes that were tied almost too perfectly. She hung her head, her thick curls creating a curtain to separate her from the world.

And for all she was worth, despite her apparent ordeal, she laughed.

She laughed and laughed and laughed until her lungs ached from straining against the ropes around her ribcage and her eyes spilled over with tears.

"Fuck, I should be in Hollywood."

* * *

It was Kabil who had finally come to retrieve her several hours after Vaas had left, walking with his hand around her bicep as he had done before while leading her out of the basement and back through the camp, heading toward one of the buildings near the heart of the outpost that was constructed largely of wood and sheets of tin. He led her inside and down a narrow hallway into the back where there was a small storage room, pulling a key from his pocket and using it to open a padlock that was affixed to the door. Inside on the dirt floor amongst stacks of crates and rusty mechanical parts was a threadbare blanket and what she'd recognized as her daily meal- water and rice.

Kabil left her there, closing the door when he departed, and as she made her way to the blanket she heard the sound of the padlock clicking back into place. Slowly she lowered herself onto the blanket and began to eat what was given to her, grateful that her hands hadn't been rebound. It wasn't long before the sound of struggling reached her ears, followed by anguished screams. They'd only passed one other door in the narrow hallways, so she could only assume that the sounds were coming from that room.

Tara stilled slightly although it was doubtful she would stand a chance at mentally trying to block out the screams that reached her, the sounds resounding off the constructs of the building and being amplified beyond a normal human level. She heard another voice, or several voices, all bearing sharp accents that whooped and guffawed as they tortured someone the next room over. The first thing she was sure about during her whole stay was that she wouldn't be getting any sleep that night.

* * *

**A/N: Well, there you are! A little shorter than I normally go for, but it seemed like an appropriate place to end a chapter. Tara is holding up pretty well so far, no? She's one tough cookie. And maybe a little bit of something else? Let's see what comes along in the following chapters, because remember, on Rook Island things aren't always as they seem.**

**Translation Notes:**

**|D| = Darija, |S| = Spanish**

**"Mchi thawa" –"Fuck you"|D| "Bella" – "Beautiful" |S|"Amante" – "Sweetheart"|S| "Puta" – "Whore"|S|**


	3. Chapter 3

**That Which Has Been Lost**

**Chapter Three**

* * *

Two more days passed, and with nothing to do but sleep or twiddle her thumbs and no visitors besides Kabil when he brought her meals or walked her out to the small building nearby that acted as an outhouse to use the bathroom, Tara was beginning to get nervous. She had certain time limits on her expectations, and those time limits were quickly coming to an end.

As she was nearing the peak of her restlessness, she had a very unlikely savior; Vaas came into her room, pocketing his copy of the key to her padlock as he motioned with whistle and a jerk of his head toward the door.

"The fuck are you sitting around on your ass for! There's someone who wants to meet you." His voice was both cheerful and oddly impish as if her previous transgressions had been completely forgotten, his hands resting on his hips as he waited for her to cross the room to him.

Tara anticipated his hand to go to her neck and was surprised when instead it pressed to the small of her back as he guided her out of the room and down the hallway that was barely wide enough for them to pass through single file. Once they entered the central area of the camp he slung an arm over her shoulder, steering her toward the main gate where an older pickup was waiting, a handful of pirates seated and ready in the bed.

She followed Vaas to the driver's side door, through the open window of which she could see Kabil in the passenger seat. Not waiting a moment more, the man with his arm around her opened the door and pushed her up into the cab, not missing the opportunity to palm her ass and touch a bit of the skin that was revealed by the frayed edges of her shorts riding up. And just like that he jumped in after her, pressing her in between himself and Kabil.

Tara tried to wriggle her torso forward a bit to give herself more space as Vaas touched off the ignition, the man returning his arm to her shoulders just as she'd found a spot that was remotely comfortable.

"You know Tahira? Our little home movie is sure getting a lot of attention. Especially from my boss- he insisted I bring you over so he could get a look for himself. Good thing he's nearby working on some shipment deal, otherwise I may have just told him that he'd have to come to me if he wanted to look. But, the man signs my paycheck, you know? Gotta try to keep him happy from time to time."

She remained sulkily silent in response, though Vaas had more than enough to say for the three of them in the cab, a reaction which was undoubtedly related to her 'good behavior'. He spent the trip talking about the trade, and how the Rakyat had tried to capture one of their more western outposts, and anything else that seemed to come to mind. Although his driving may have been considered erratic on normal roads it was truly the only appropriate way to drive through the jungle, even on the worn-down dirt paths. Regardless, Tara had decidedly had enough of it in the 20 minutes of southward driving it took them to reach their destination, at which point the road split in two and they headed to the left down over a small hill.

As they passed over the crest, down below Tara could see stretches of barren land that had evidently once had houses upon them but had long been torn down, save for the structures nearest the water that stood on raised wooden stilts. There was a decent sized pier with an impressive craft docked, and Tara knew instantly that it must belong to Vaas' boss.

They drove down the road through the flatlands, coming to a stop in front of the largest of the buildings. There were a number of well-armed and well-dressed mercenaries stationed around the wooden structure, each bearing a yellow band tied around their right arm much in the way Vaas' men tied a red one about their left. The pirates clamored out of the bed of the truck, giving the men with yellow flags a nod before mingling amongst them and circling around the edges of the building to enforce the perimeter.

Vaas had already gotten out of the truck by that point, Kabil taking hold of Tara's arm and leading her out the passenger side before steering her up the stairs and into the house after the other man. They entered first into a large open area with a few pieces of dilapidated furniture and a smattering of off-duty privateers who were smoking, drinking, or playing poker around rickety makeshift tables, none of which seemed at all concerned by their presence. There was one man near a door on the right side of the room where Vaas was heading who allowed them to pass through with a nod of his head.

The door hadn't even closed behind them before the man sitting at a large wooden table, which had undoubtedly been brought in rather recently considering it's like-new condition, was on his feet and striding toward them.

"So good to see you again, Vaas. Ah! And you must be Miss. Labrat. I'm so pleased to finally meet you so we can discuss our deal in person." Hoyt advanced on the young woman with his hand extended, Kabil releasing her arm and taking a step back while Vaas stood silent, for once in his life too shocked for words.

"_Tasharafna_, Mr. Volker. I must say, you have quite an empire here. Well managed, expansive… All you said and more." Tara replied smoothly, accepting the proffered hand and shaking it firmly. Hoyt was younger than her father, as she had expected, and gave off a deceptively casual air due in part to his button up shirt, rolled-sleeve blazer, and jeans- she'd met his kind before. He may have appeared normal enough, but the strain around his eyes and the slight glassiness to his gaze said it all. He'd been dipping into his own product and was almost as much at the mercy of his main trade drug as anyone else. Poor bastard.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait- hold on a second, hermano. What the fuck is going on here? What did you keep from me? Who is she?" Vaas' shock wore off quickly and he neared some unforeseen boiling point, taking a step toward Hoyt and effectively putting himself partway between the South African and his 'captive' as he demanded an explanation.

"Sorry Vaas, this was all Miss. Labrat, Tahira-"

"Tara is fine." She amended quickly, giving a noncommittal shrug of the shoulder.

"Tara's idea. You see, she is the daughter of Mourad Labrat, the largest grower, producer, and distributer of marijuana and hashish in the world. We've been trying to come to accords for years now, form a co-op if you will, and it wasn't until Tara here came along that she finally convinced her father to accept the deal. That was, granted she would be able to get a look at business first hand, from the inside, and ensure that I would be able to hold up my end of the deal. She never said when she'd swing by, so I admit I'm almost as surprised as you are, Vaas." Hoyt explained, pacing thoughtfully with a smoldering cigar in his left hand.

"From what I understand you're set to succeed your father, is that right?" The man then asked, turning to Tara who gave a nod on the affirmative as he took a draw from the Cohiba and exhaled the sweetly scented smoke.

"I am- and when that time comes, I want to make sure the trade will have grown stronger. It's in my personal interest as well as the interest of the company for it to expand. Baba wanted me to have more experience and has been trying to set me up as a foreign liaison for one of the branches for the last few years, and then you offered us some of the land here."

"Oh no, no, no, no. Absolutely fucking not. There's no way some _puta_ is just walking in here and taking over my fucking kingdom. Oh no, fuck you hermano. I rule this island." Vaas' voice cut in suddenly, first lashing out at Tara before turning on Hoyt, who fired back immediately.

"Oh, you own this fucking island? Do you? Well, how well will you fucking fare when I pull my men and my ships and my ammunition and my arms and my drugs and my fucking trade empire right out from under your feet! I own these pathetic spits of land, and they're mine to do as I fucking please with! Now, if you would be so kind as to give a fuck about the throne I built for you and do what I fucking tell you to, that would be fantastic." Hoyt's temper exploded, though the three in the room hardly flinched or reacted, each more than mentally prepared for whatever the addict had to dish out.

"Okay Hoyt. Okay. Alright." Vaas' voice was slightly exhausted, his hands defensive, but everything about him hinted that no, it was not alright. But he was calm again- more or less. And just like that, Hoyt had also been defused and was leaning casually against the table that was presently being used as a desk, taking a puff from his cigar before setting it on the edge of a large crystal ashtray.

"Now that that's settled, back to business. I'm guessing you saw the fields on your way here. They're yours to do with as you see fit. I will be checking in periodically, just in case you need anything. If you ever need more workers or supplies, you know how to get a hold of me." Hoyt walked to a nearby stack of crates, picking up a manila folder and slapping it down on the table.

"This is everything you'll need while you're here- shipping manifests, advanced orders, it's all there." The man explained, Tara moving forward and flipping over the front cover of the folder before thumbing through the documents.

"Mr. Volker, do you happen to have a satellite phone I could use? I have to make a few calls."

"Please, dear, call me Hoyt. Business is serious enough without all the niceties. And yes, I thought you might like to check in with your father." The man passed her a clunky black phone from the belt on his pants and she accepted it with a nod, grabbing the manila folder as she passed toward one of the room's corners and dialed the first of the numbers on her mental list of 'People to Call'.

"_Alu, baba… ana bekhir shukran, wenta?... Mzyan, mzyan._" Tara spoke briefly with her father only to inquire as to how he was before moving on to more pressing matters- namely, informing him of the condition of Hoyt's trafficking ring from the papers contained in the folder and the fertility of the land from firsthand experience. The whole island was green and teeming with all manner of flora and fauna, and here especially on the land of one of the old fishing villages, the soil was especially rich from the decomposition of all the sea life that'd been left about when the people abandoned the village and moved inland. Now, it provided a prime location to cultivate _Cannabis indica,_ as well as set up facilities to mass-produce the hashish that was becoming incredibly popular in the local area.

That was, at large, the gist of the deal- both her father and Hoyt had established very large and successful trafficking rings in their respective regions, though the items trafficked often differed, and thus it only seemed natural to come to some sort of mutual agreement to expand the area to which each could market their products at a cheaper price than passing it around to smaller transportation rings. Hoyt would be able to gain more clients and product for his slave, drug, and arms trade from northern Africa, Europe, and Central America, as well as parts of southern North America. Similarly, her father would be able to manufacture hashish down in the south Pacific and ship it more locally, and thus in larger quantities, to South Asia, Oceania, and the Pacific Islands. It was a win-win situation. All it needed was someone to get the gears turning, which is precisely what she'd volunteer to do.

Soon Tara ended the call, quickly dialing another number as she watched Hoyt speak firmly to Vaas, no doubt giving him some sort of ultimatum. For the time being, as she was sure Hoyt wouldn't be sticking around too long, Vaas and his men were her only protection against the Rakyat. While Hoyt's Privateers and Vaas' pirates were on the same team as a whole, she'd been told in early negotiations that each showed specific loyalty to the man whose colors they bore- having the Privateers traipsing around the North Island to guard her would be like sticking a finger in the black-and-blue eye Vaas got from having to "give" her a part of the island.

"_Alu, Said… Ma'leesh- aji gehdda... Tṭreq salama._" Her talk with Said, her right hand man, was much shorter knowing they'd already been given the coordinates for the field that Hoyt had provided to her father and all she had to tell them to head out tomorrow and begin construction as soon as they reached the village. As she ended the call she saw Hoyt coming toward her, a slight grin on his features.

"All's well, I trust?" He asked, accepting the phone as she passed it back to him.

"_Oui, ya salam_. My father is content, and my men will be here within the week- they're in Makassar, so it shouldn't take much longer than that to reach the island." Tara explained, looking over Hoyt's shoulder briefly to where Vaas stood with Kabil at his side, neither one speaking but both of them observing.

"Perfect. Well then, while you're here or as long as you want, Vaas has graciously agreed to provide you with room, board, transportation- whatever else you need. If he can't get it for you, I can, and if I can't, I'm sure your father will find a way." The business man drawled, moving his hands languidly as he spoke.

"Oh, yes- and I do believe this is yours." Hoyt then interjected, circling behind his desk and picking up a medium sized rucksack that appeared to be an older military surplus model. She couldn't help but smile at the sight, accepting it gratefully as he offered one of the straps to her.

"_Shokran bezzaf_, Hoyt. I was hoping this would be awaiting me when we met." Tara admitted, slinging the bag over her shoulder. She'd packed it before beginning on her trip, sending it to Hoyt to hold until the date she arrived- the interesting part was that she hadn't had it sent until she was already on the yacht heading toward the North Island and that it was mostly by chance that it'd arrived so soon. But, she had assumed that its arrival would hint at her own, and decided to try to trick the system just a little.

"Well, I suppose that's all, then. I'll let you go get settled." Hoyt then finalized, clasping his hands together firmly before escorting her back to Vaas and Kabil. The latter was looking at her much like he did after he removed her attacker- almost like he was laughing on the inside. The former, however, opted to act as if she wasn't even there by neither acknowledging her nor meeting her gaze. Even then, she followed after him as he started toward the door, the trio pausing when Hoyt called out her.

"By the way- that tape really was something of beauty. You'd have a promising career in film with talent like that."

She couldn't help the smile that formed on her lips as she turned to answer him over her shoulder, a small sliver of pain stabbing her chest as she reflexively held the manila folder to her bosom.

"So I've been told… _Shokran_."

The door slammed against the wall beside it as Vaas stormed out of the room, Kabil hanging back just long enough to make sure Tara was in front of him by the time they reached the vehicle. Vaas could be heard shouting for his men to get back into the truck, the handful of people they'd arrived with jogging back and piling into the bed as Kabil, much to Tara's surprise, opened the passenger side door and offered her a hand up into the raised cab which she accepted out of convention.

Once again she spent the trip trapped between Kabil and Vaas, their muscular forms taking up most of the room in the space and leaving her to fold her shoulders in so she could fit with her bag piled on her lap. This time Vaas didn't put his arm over her shoulders as he had before, preferring instead to grip the wheel firmly with his right hand and set his left against the window ledge. His driving was even more fitful on the trip back than it had been earlier, shouts of surprise emitting from the truck bed whenever they hit a particularly nasty bump or dip in the road or swerved suddenly to avoid a larger rock.

The men were too happy to clamor out of the back as soon as the vehicle can to a stop back in Tequila Sunrise, the sky having darkened as the day began to come to a close. Again Kabil helped her down from the truck in an unusual display of chivalry, but as soon as her feet touched the ground she took a few quick strides in an attempt to catch up with Vaas as he walked hastily toward the far end of the compound, bypassing the large fire around which a good number of the pirates had gathered with lukewarm beer and half-empty bottles of liquor. She could smell the sickly-sweet scent of impure crystal meth being burned, and the starkly floral scent of stale marijuana hung familiarly in the air.

"Hey- _bellati_! Vaas!"

Tara rounded the corner of one of the inner buildings at a slight jog, turning into the darkness to find the dimly lit footpath ahead completely empty.

"Vaas?"

She heard the rustle of movement behind her but didn't have enough time to move away before she felt a rough hand grab her shoulder and spin her around before a second hand curled around her throat and all but threw her against the splintering wood of the nearest hut, her bag falling to the ground beside her. Vaas' body towered over hers intimidatingly, his eyes seething with the fury he'd been repressing since they spoke with Hoyt.

"Who are you?" His voice was low and harsh, the tone hinting at something much darker than anything she had experienced from him previously. She looked at him wide-eyed, the question drawing her to pause.

"What?" The utterance left her lips in an equally quiet tone, though hers clearly expressed the confusion and slight exasperation she was feeling.

"I asked you who the fuck you think you are…" Vaas repeated in a harsh tone, his fingers twitching occasionally against her throat in a physical manifestation of his anger. Heat rolled off his body in waves, his breathing shallow as he bore down upon her.

Slowly realization dawned on her- he looked as destabilized as he probably felt. If there was one thing she had learned in her short time here it was that Vaas had a very controlling component to his personality that led him to roughly plan everything out and expect it to go more or less in that fashion- and this was something he hadn't anticipated. He hadn't planned for her, or at least not in the manner which he now had to regard her. She was no longer a captive, she was an equal. Tara let out a faint sound of amusement that made his eyes flash, preparing to speak only to have her beat him to the punch.

"Tahira Labrat- _hasanan_? You already know my name." Tara replied almost mockingly, standing firm on equal ground but not fighting against him too much. That would surely only provoke him, and it wasn't something she had any intentions of dealing with at present.

"You know what I fucking meant, hermana. You set some shit up so you can just walk in here and play me and take advantage of my hospitality. Do you know how fucking rude that is? You colonialist, imperialist fuck. " He was watching her watch him, his gaze and tone slowly reverting to being deceptively neutral.

"You don't even know-"

"The fuck I don't. Right now… You. Are. Nothing. You understand that? Huh? Because if not, I'm going to have to nail it through your fucking skull. You're in my kingdom, and you are _not _one of us. You are not me." He was glaring at her now, rage spilling over his features although he somehow managed to keep from crushing her windpipe just as she managed to keep from fighting against him.

"_Man 'anta_, Vaas? Before you ask other people who they are, you best know yourself." Tara fired back, his words doing nothing to discourage her and instead effectively urging her to fight back if only verbally. If nothing else, her father had brought her up to understand that she was not going to play a passive role in life- no, in some way or another she would do something extraordinary, and she would have to possess the mentality to get herself there.

Something in his expression lifted slightly, the corner of his mouth following suit. She wasn't afraid of him anymore, if she had actually been to start with, and she could tell that he saw it. But she couldn't be sure how he felt about it.

"Me, _amante_?" he let out a bark of laughter, expression lightening to one of minor amusement.

"I'm Vaas Montenegro- the king of this fucking island. I know what I'm about, okay? I don't need to hide it."

"You know what you're about, huh? Well, I'll tell you what hermano- if you don't take a step back, take your hands off me, and show me to my room, I can tell you what you're about to be missing. _Fahima_?" Tara had gone along with his goading and questioning long enough and, deciding that she wouldn't be getting anything more out of him tonight, opted to reveal the Ace she had up her sleeve. She pressed the flat edge of the knife, his knife, into an area of skin on his inner thigh that was dangerously close to his groin. While she hadn't had time to escape when he'd grabbed her, she had more than enough time to pinch the blade from his belt when he shoved her to the wall. The situation hit him quickly and his grip on her throat faded before disappearing as he took a slow step away from her body.

She had gained control at that moment, and she would not be at his mercy.

Tara moved from the wall, rotating the blade in her hand almost habitually until she finally offered it back to him, hilt up. He snatched the knife from her as he turned on heel, boots crunching as he led her to a slightly more gravelly area with a small shanty of concrete construction that was nearly flush with the wall of another slightly larger hut. She headed after him after grabbing her bag, pulling the right strap over her shoulder as she moved to catch up.

"Here you go, hermana. Hoyt wants you comfortable, and the best I can do is give you his room. He's a bit of a pussy like you, so he keeps it real nice in there. Just make sure to check for spiders and any other crawlers before you climb in bed." He said mockingly, Tara starting toward the hut but sparing a glance over her shoulder when he spoke again.

"That's one thing I was right about- you are a fucking princess, you know that? Papa is the reigning king you're his little crown heir." Vaas' voice had turned slightly acidic, scathing, judging. His mood swings were becoming tiring, and she decided quickly that she was bound to get whiplash one of these days.

"You were right about something else then too, Vaas." Tara had reached the wooden door of the structure, leaning against the cool wall as her hand paused on the handle as she hid a bitter smile.

"And what is that?"

"They don't make princesses like they used to." Tara spared him one last glance before she pulled open the door and stepped up into the hut, closing the door solidly behind her.

Damn him if that bastard wasn't grinning like the cat that got the canary.

* * *

**A/N: One more chapter down- and what't this? A challenger? Or something more dangerous? Hope you enjoyed the little twist- it only gets better from here!**

**Translation Notes:**

**|D| = Darija, |S| = Spanish, |F| = French**

**"Tasharafna" – "Nice to meet you" |D| "****Puta"- "Whore" |S|**

**"Alu, baba… ana bekhir shukran, wenta?... Mzyan, mzyan…"- "Hi Dad… (in response to asking how someone is) I'm fine, thanks, and you?... (in response to well-being) Good, good…" |D|**

**"Alu, Said… Ma'leesh- aji gehdda... Tṭreq salama."- "Hello Said… It's okay- come tomorrow... Have a peaceful trip." |D|**

**"Oui, ya slama."- "Yes, amazing" |F/D| ****"Shokran (bezzaf)"- "Thank you (very much)" |D| "****Bellati!"- "Wait!" |D| "H****asanan?"- "Okay/Alright?" |D| "****Man 'anta?"- "Who are you?" |D| "****Amante" - "Sweetheart" |S| "****Fahima?"- "Understand?" |D|**


End file.
